BY TANYA BRICKING
The Cincinnati Enquirer
![[collier-jeter]](/editions/1998/12/06/jeter_180x116.jpg)
Brenda Collier, mother of slain Spc. Ronald Jeter, is reflected in the black granite of her son's tombstone in Columbus.
(Glenn Hartong photo)
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The cover pages of Brenda Collier's Bible resemble a high-school yearbook with names and phone numbers squeezed in like autographs.
Some people have been those she's turned to in times of crisis. Others have reached out to her in prayer. She credits her faith for keeping her life bright even after her son, Cincinnati Police Spc. Ronald Jeter, was shot to death a year ago today along with his partner, Officer Daniel Pope.
The year since has been a tumultuous one for Cincinnati police. From a rookie cop saving herself from a shooter to a recruit being critically injured during training, members of the department and their families have struggled to look beyond the tragedy.
![[pope]](/editions/1998/12/06/pope_160x136.jpg)
Linda Pope, widow of Officer Daniel Pope, participates in a candlelight vigil Saturday night at the police memorial on Ezzard Charles Drive.
(Saed Hindash photo)
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For Brenda Collier, it has meant focusing her energies on raising $375,000 for a crisis counseling center being built in Columbus in her son's memory. It will be part of the Destiny Training Camp, a ministry for troubled teens.
The 54-year-old Columbus woman hopes it will help people like the young man who killed her son.
"Places like this maybe, just maybe, could deter
something like that," she said. "The reason why I hurt so much is because I'm a mother. I realize it could have gone the other way."
Choices in life made her son one of the heroes. For that, she is proud. But she wants her son's legacy to live on by being a source of hope for others.
Spc. Jeter and Officer Pope were working undercover that night and stopped in a Clifton Heights apartment to arrest Alonzo Davenport, who was wanted on seven domestic-violence charges. Mr. Davenport, 20, shot both officers in the back of the head. Then he ran from the apartment and killed himself.
In the months that followed, officers killed three people in self-defense. Officer Kathleen "Katy" Conway, who shot one of them, survived having her hip shattered in an attack.
Those events happening so quickly strengthened the police division but left lingering pain, police Chaplain Mark Pruden said.
"It's hard to frame a tragedy like that in any positive way," he said. "We'd like to have their lives back."
But he now sees a spirit of cooperation among police agencies, an awareness of the danger of police work and visible support from the community.
The aftermath of the shootings jolted the 911 operation that works so closely with police. The city fired two 911 workers in March because of mistakes made the night Spc. Jeter and Officer Pope were shot.
Others in the 911 center are still healing from that tension and pain, said Lt. Alan March, assistant police commander in the communications section.
His unit has added a second training supervisor and has incorporated role-playing scenarios into the ongoing training for 911 call takers.
A 911 steering committee set up by city Safety Director Kent Ryan is expected to make recommendations next month about more improvements to staffing, training and
equipment. And since the shootings, volunteers routinely listen to 911 tapes and rate the calls.
"We've been reaching out to our customers to ask what we can do better," Lt. March said.
A city council vote on whether to establish a civilian review board to investigate police controversies is expected in the next few months.
"The past year has caused a strengthening of the bond among police officers," local Fraternal Order of Police President Keith Fangman said. "The murders really made all of us realize that tonight could be your last night. Today could be the last time you hug your kids."
It has also lead to an increased emphasis on safety, from the police academy to veteran officers, Mr. Fangman said.
"I truly believe that the beat officers in this city are much more aware of the dangers and risks of the job as a result of the murders," he said.
The division tries to learn from each of its tragedies, he said. Last month, a recruit was critically injured at the target range after being shot in the back by a trainer with a blank round.
And before the year was up, Chief Michael Snowden, who led the force through racial tension and emotional turmoil, announced his retirement.
Capt. Phyllis Caskey has adjusted to the roller coaster of emotions and events. She adds a tie tack to her uniform every day, an emblem of the badges of the slain officers who were under her command.
The 31-year police veteran lost a partner, Officer Charles Burdsall, in 1979 when he was shot by robbery suspect. Last December's funerals were the 13th and 14th police funerals of her career.
She tries to focus on the positive legacies.
A 21-year-old woman is living thanks to Spc. Jeter's liver. People donated $100,000 for a memorial that's a reminder to police that the community cares.
Friendships are stronger, and for many, so is faith.
"I just feel when God gives us some tragedy, there's a reason," Capt. Caskey said. "There's always some good that comes out of it."
Life goes on
Memorials, plaques, emblems and T-shirts are constant reminders for police families of the deaths that happened a year ago. What's emerging now is a stronger message that life goes on.
Linda Pope, Officer Pope's widow, says her life is like a jigsaw puzzle thrown on the floor. She's still trying to pick up the pieces. She spent much of the year battling the city. First it was because she wanted officials to fire 911 workers who made mistakes the night her husband was killed. Then it was because she wanted politicians to keep their promises to cover the cost of the funeral. She accomplished both goals.
Now, at 37, she's trying to redirect her energy. She wants to create a local chapter of Concerns Of Police Survivors (COPS), a support group that counsels families of police killed in the line of duty.
"It almost seems selfish for me not to be able to share my experience," she said. "I need to take my anger and rage and do something positive with it or it will kill me."
She's become close to Lisa Partin, widow of Covington Police Officer Michael Partin, who fell to his death Jan. 4 while chasing a man across the Clay Wade Bailey Bridge.
She still hurts and doesn't expect the pain to ever go away. Sometimes time makes it harder, she said, because her life with her husband feels farther and farther away.
Both she and Mrs. Collier keep memorials in their homes with badges, flags and all of the symbols of police work. The two women don't talk regularly, but they respect each other's way of handling grief.
Mrs. Collier's outlet is her church.
"I was never thinking I was going to outlive three of my kids," said Mrs. Collier, who lost one son when he was a baby
and another to a motorcycle accident a few years ago. "But I have to think God has a purpose."
Mrs. Pope, a Cincinnati fire lieutenant, leans on her friends. She also says she talks to her husband and feels he's still here to guide her.
She's ready to let go of some of her bitterness, even as she stands at the police memorial this weekend and relives the worst days of her life.
"I think of those candle flames," she said. "It's kind of like my life. It's just a little flicker of hope."
Donations to the youth ministry center can be made to The Ronald Jeter Crisis and Counseling Center, c/o Destiny Training Camp, P.O. Box 24804, Columbus, Ohio, 43224.
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